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From: dlbgolf <dlbgolf2007@yahoo.com>
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Subject: STORY - A Boy Called Trigger
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Date: Fri, 23 Nov 2007 15:15:15 -0500
===================
A Boy Called Trigger
Chapter I
Just a Skinny Little Runt
I don't know that any boy decides, at the age of fifteen, to
be a boy-toy, gigolo, or whatever you might call a man who makes a
living providing sexual favors for women.
Like normal boys, I wanted to be a professional athlete, or
fighter pilot, fireman or policeman. And like all normal teen-agers, I
thought about sex all the time, masturbated till I was sore, and
firmly believed that I would die a virgin. Oh, there was the smut talk
in the locker room after gym of guys getting to first base, or
bragging about how far they had went the night before with their
girlfriends. They would go around the school and stick their finger
under the other guys noses and said "How about that", or some other
suggestive thing. I would laugh along with the other guys, but never
really did know what was so funny.
I didn't play any sports as I had put on an enormous growth spurt the
summer before and now stood 6 feet tall - all hands, feet, and knobby
joints - and clumsy as hell, but I wanted to participate so I was the
teams Equipment Manager. I didn't really believe most of the talk
about who put out, who "Got Lucky", etc. because in the late 1950's
virginity was still a prized possession, and there were very few High
School girls really going all-the-way at that time.
I wasn't one of the "Big Men On Campus", I was active in sports, but
not one of the super-jock's; wasn't into after school clubs or
activities. Mostly I mowed lawns in the summer and shoveled snow in
the winter for the neighbors. I was saving all I could because I
wanted to buy a car next year when I turned 16 and my parents sure
couldn't afford to get me one - not that they would have if they could
afford it - "You've got to earn your way in this world - Nothing is
given to you" was one of the refrains I heard over and over. I figured
with a car, the odds would be greatly improved for getting a
girlfriend.
CHAPTER 2
Mrs. Barnes
It was a lawn mowing incident that changed my life forever. It was
during the "Dog-Days" of summer and I was tending to Mr. & Mrs.
"Barnes yard. Being hotter than hell, I had stripped off my T-Shirt
and was mowing in my well worn jeans, sweating up a storm. I was using
an old rotary push type power mower and was about half way finished
when Mrs. Barnes asked me inside for a glass of lemonade, which I
gratefully accepted. Air conditioning in houses was a thing of the
future at the time, and Mrs. Barnes was wearing the a light summer
frock with a pretty flower design. As she was an "Old Lady", at least
thirty (remember, at fifteen - thirty was "Old"), I really didn't look
on her as a "Girl". She was just this pretty, friendly neighbor lady.
Her Husband was the High School Football Coach, a big hunk of
a man the girls were always giggling about. He was conducting a
Varsity Football Camp and wasn't home at the time.
While drinking the lemonade, I was looking at what
seemed like a hundred trophies, medals and ribbons in display cases
and shelves in their living room and noticed that most of the medals
and ribbons were for swimming. "I didn't know that Mr. B was into
swimming too", I said. Mrs. Barnes replied that she had won them
during her High School and College years.
"Do you still swim?" I asked.
"We usually go to one of the lakes during the summer, but not
nearly as often as I would like" She replied.
It seemed like she was really lonely as she kept making small
talk for what seemed like hours until I had to go to the bathroom so I
asked to use hers.
"Right down the hall on the left, I'll go get your two dollars
for the lawn while you're there" (don't scoff - two dollars was a good
wage in 1959) she replied. I went in, closed the door, not realizing
that it didn't latch. I didn't notice that the door slowly swung open
while I was peeing and Mrs. B walked by, looked in and exclaimed
"Oh my god".
Naturally I was embarrassed to beat hell and tried to turn my
back on her while attempting to keep the stream of piss directed into
the bowl. "I'm sorry Mrs. B - I didn't realize the door was open."
"My fault really, I should have warned you about the door."
She said, and it looked like she was as embarrassed as I was, red
faced and breathing kind of heavy.
When I finally finished, I quickly zipped up my jeans and
caught the loose skin of my pecker in the zipper, I must have let out
a howl that was heard three houses down. I quickly unzipped, re-zipped
and gathered enough courage to come out of the bathroom. I tried to
apologize again but she wouldn't hear about it.
"Are you all right Bobby, I heard a scream?" I think I turned
another ten shades deeper red and said
"I'm OK, don't worry about it - Just a small cramp in my leg,"
I replied while grabbing my left thigh.
She sat me on the couch and started massaging my thigh.
"No - No - It's all right now - you don't need to do that" I
said.
"Nonsense, I do it all the time for my husband, just relax and
let me do my thing. Sit back on the sofa." And she kneeled on the
floor in front of me, and started massaging my left thigh.
"It doesn't feel all that tight," She said as she started giving my
left thigh a rub down, "but then, I can't tell too much through your
blue jeans, You might have to take them off".
"No, No," I said, "It's gone now," I said, as she kept kneading. Oh
God, I'm thinking, it's starting to get hard.
"Bobby, is that what I think it is?" her face turning red.
"What, Mrs. B?", I stammered.
"Are you getting a hard-on Bobby?" she was breathing sort of hard.
"Mrs. B., I'm so sorry, first I embarrass you at the toilet, now I'm
doing it again, PLEASE don't tell my Dad, I won't do it again, and
forget about the lawn, I'll just leave." Hearing a woman say "Hard-On"
made it even worse, I had never heard a woman say anything like that
(remember now folks, this is the late 1950's).
"Bobby, You're not embarrassing me, I wasn't embarrassed in the
bathroom, I was shocked at the size of your penis. And I'm not
embarrassed now - excited yes - embarrassed, No"
"What do you mean, you're excited?" (did she say PENIS?).
"Bobby, women can get sexually excited, the same as men, we just don't
show it the way you do. When I saw you getting hard, and realized that
what I had seen in the bathroom when you were soft was only a hint of
what was really there, I definitely got excited - Look at me Bobby, My
face is red, I'm breathing hard, my nipples are hard (Yes - She said
NIPPLES), I want you Bobby. If you won't tell the coach, I won't tell
your Dad."
"WOW - Do you mean you want to "DO IT" with me Mrs. B? I've never
done that before. I've thought about it about fifty times a day,
dreamed of it every night, but I've never even really been to first
base with a girl."
"Well honey, if your willing, you are going to hit a home run today.
Just lean back dear and let mommy take care of that bad old cramp in
your thigh." And with that, She undid my belt, unzipped my jeans, and
started tugging them off my legs. "Oh my, it's real," she said when my
trousers cleared my shorts and Bobby Jr. (OK, I'll admit it, I had a
pet name for it) sprang up. My jeans hung up on my high tops, and she
frantically ripped off the shoes, without untying them, then my pants.
Next came the old jockeys. "Holy Mary, Mother of God," She exclaimed
as Jr. popped up and slapped me in the belly.
She hurriedly snatched off her panties, pushed me back on the sofa,
and climbed up in my lap, reaching sown with her hand and placing Jr's
head in that private place women have. Dear reader, I've heard about a
girls: cooze, snatch, pussy, so many times in the locker rooms, I've
thought about it so many countless hours, dreamed about it so often.
But I never have seen one (the nudist magazines the guys passed around
just showed a blank spot there) I've definitely never touched one, and
when She started to settle down on it, I realized everything I had
heard about it was pure lies.
For one thing, there were no teeth down there (O.K. laugh), It was
incredibly hot, and extremely wet. I thought She had peed. But I
digress.
As She lowered herself onto Jr., I was scared, shocked, thrilled and
amazed all at once. Slowly She came down, inch by inch, until there
was only a couple of inches to go.
"Oh my God," "Oh my God," She kept moaning, "I can't believe it," (SHE
CAN'T BELIEVE IT??). After She got most of the way down, She just
rested for a minute, Her head on my shoulder, panting like an
exhausted dog. "Oh Bobby, that feels so beautiful" (TELL ME ABOUT
IT!). Then she started to move up and down, about three times, that's
all it took for me to erupt. I thought it felt good to get off in the
past when I masturbated, that was NOTHING.
"Oh my God," "Oh my God," (it was my turn now) as I spewed my guts out
for what seemed like an eternity.
"Oh my God," "Oh my God," She was screaming, "Give it to Me, I've
never aggggggggghhhhhhhhh."
When I could talk again, I said "Mrs. B., that was so incredible, is
it always that good?"
"Bobby, that is the first orgasm I've had in over a year. Usually it
takes me so much longer, but I was so excited, and you are so huge, I
couldn't hold back.
"Mrs. B., You mean girls have orgasms, just like guys? I've never
heard about that in the locker rooms."
"Only when we are terribly excited, or there lover is really
accomplished. I can't believe I came so quickly but you have just
reached spots that I never realized existed. I've got to teach you
some control Bobby, you won't be able to get by with only three
strokes too often. And I think you have just earned the right to call
me Barbara, but only when we're alone, O.K.?"
"Barbara - Sound nice, Say - I didn't realize you were so religious,
I've never seen you at First Baptist."
"I'm not all that religious, I go to Mass at St. Joseph's, once in a
while, and still go to confession, but I've really haven't had all
that much to confess to, until now that is."
"I guess I thought you were more religious because you kept saying "Oh
God" while we were making love."
"Was I? Well, if heaven is half as good as what I was feeling, I can
hardly wait, and it's only going to get better with us."
"Do you mean, there will be a next time?"
"And a next time, and next time, until you are tired of me."
CHAPTER 3
LESSONS
Over the next 12 days, Barbara set out to educate me in the fine art
of pleasing a woman. After our initial lovemaking, Barbara remembered
my scream from the Bathroom and asked me about it. When I explained
that I caught the loose skin on Jr. in my zipper, She just had to
check out the damage (I think that was just an excuse though), after
seeing that there was just a red spot, and no cut, Said she had the
perfect cure for that nasty old bruise, and commenced to kiss and lick
it until old Jr. was once again at full attention.
"This is called oral sex Bobby, and started to demonstrate. She also
started to teach me a lot of the grown-up words for what She was going
to show me. Over the next few days, She taught me, and showed me, and
coached me, until I was very proficient at cunnilingus (going down on
her, muff-diving, eating at the Y, carpet munching, giving head,
etc.); receiving fellatio (blow-jobs, cleaning the pipes, getting
head, etc.); various positions for intercourse (fucking, humping,
performing the beast with two backs, etc.); Missionary, girl astride,
reverse cowgirl, doggy (I really liked that one), spooning, etc. She
even taught me anal sex (Hershey highway, pooper popping, etc.). She
said not every woman will like it this way, but it can be a diversion,
and one more thing that can be done when a woman is in her fertile
period and worried about pregnancy, or during her period, I don't
think She liked that one too much though because of my size, after the
first time, She didn't initiate it again. She also taught me the
various names for both male and female sex organs, and cautioned me to
not use the really harsh words with a woman unless She seemed to like
what she termed "Nasty Sex". To refer to the vagina as a vagina, or
perhaps pussy, or during nasty sex as cunt, which seemed to be her
favorite term. As for the penis, she preferred the term "Cock". I
didn't realize it until much later that Barbara was one really hot,
and experienced woman.
For 12 glorious days, and some nights, that summer, I grew 20 years in
my knowledge of how to please a woman. My biggest initial problem was
premature ejaculation. Her favorite "Cure" for this was to give me
head, until I was just on the brink, then press her thumb on the
underside of Jr. until the urge went away, then bring me back to the
edge again, only to stop. After several time of this, I learned much
more about control. She wanted to teach me what she called
swallowing, but she could only get about half of Jr. in her mouth
without gagging. I never did receive what they call "Deep Throat"
until years later. In fact, I married the only woman who could get it
all in. But that's another story.
She taught me all about the clitoris, or love-button, little man in
the boat, etc. and how to really drive a girl crazy using my fingers
and tongue.
I probably learned 90% of everything I know today from those 12 days
with Barbara. Oh, and did I tell you that, on that first day, after
the initial clothes-on screw, that She has one knockout body?? Wide
shoulders, firm cup sized breasts, flat stomach, narrow waist,
gorgeous full bearded bush a shade lighter than her dark brown hair on
her head. A high, beautifully rounded ass and long, strong legs. I was
extremely lucky that my first lover/teacher was also one of the most
beautiful women I've ever known. If all you old farts can remember
back then, she had a strong resemblance to Donna Reed.
It was heartbreaking to have to give up our daily lovemaking when Her
husband (remember the coach?) came home after summer Football Camp. We
were able to sneak in a meeting or two, but it was never the same as
when we had complete privacy. Eventually, the coach accepted an
assistant coaching position in an out of state college and I had to
say a tearful good bye to Barbara.
Barbara gave me one last lesson that more or less set me on the path I
was to take. "Bobby, you have a gold mine hanging between your legs.
Learn to use it well and you can accomplish anything you wish. Women -
Women now, not girls, will gladly pay for how you can make them feel.
Think of it as a service, or a recompense for missed income from lawn
mowing. After all, you can't mow while you're fucking. You should get
easily $10.00 per "service". And, if you wish, I know just the person
to be your first "client."
What's a fella to do? If I got something that can make grown women
happy, why not receive something in return, after all, they would pay
to go see a movie RIGHT??
Go ahead Barbara, set me up.
To be continued - But only if I get some positive feedback from Part
1.
Email me at dlbgolf2007@yahoo.com